


and the world cracked open

by lunabee34 (Lorraine)



Series: Jayne/Giles Crossover [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly
Genre: Crossover, Families of Choice, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a crossover round of maleslashminis, this is for drsquidlove who wanted Jayne/Giles, an argument (friendly or grumpy) about books or reading, Jayne being coarse, and kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the world cracked open

“I ain’t humping that _go se_ back to Serenity,” Jayne says and spits into the dirt at Rupert’s feet. 

Rupert hefts both sacks of books onto his shoulders, staggering slightly under their weight. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to,” he says in a voice he’s amused to realize sounds terribly like Cordelia Chase. Rupert tries not to think of his old life at all if he can help it—no sense crying over fuel done spent, as Kaylee would say—but the ways in which he is reminded of all he has lost are surprising and subject to no fixed rules that he can ascertain.

“What you want with all that paper for anyhow?” Jayne says. “You always waste your cut on a pile of _luh suh_ ain’t fit for nothing but burning. Don’t make no sense. You can read any damn thing on the Cortex for a sight less than you been paying for them books. Hell, most of the Cortex is free.”

Rupert shifts the bags until they rest more comfortably against his back. “We can’t all spend our shares as responsibly as you do, Jayne.”

Jayne pulls a face. “No call to go all uppity talking like the doc, Giles. You put on a mighty fine show, but you ain’t like him where it counts, not really, and you know it.”

And that’s another piece of Rupert’s past that has improbably followed him across time and space and between dimensions. Once the dust had cleared—the screaming stopped, the guns been reholstered—once Mal had chosen to let him stay, Rupert Giles became once more merely Giles. River had stared at him with those too-knowing eyes and said, “It’s the name your mother gave you, but that’s not who you are anymore,” and refused to call him anything but Giles until gradually everyone else followed suit, even Inara.

“No,” Rupert says, deciding to let the bags hang at his sides for awhile. “I don’t suppose I have ever been that—”

“Pathetic?” Jayne says. “Full of yourself? Rutting irritating?”

“I was going to say optimistic.”

Jayne snorts and keeps his hand close to his gun. They’re not expecting trouble, not on this world, but Rupert has discovered that expectations aren’t worth a lot out on the Rim. 

One of the vendors in the marketplace has a booth of fresh produce and Rupert is tempted to stop and buy some. He’s still flush, even after the books. Rupert had had quite a lot of Earth That Was in his pockets when he fell out of the sky and onto Serenity’s decks, and since then, he’s done his fair share of thieving. No one could accuse him of not pulling his weight. He can afford to indulge himself.

“We can come back,” Jayne says, nodding toward the tomatoes and bell peppers mounded high in barrels.

Rupert nods and slowly hauls the bags up to his shoulders again. His wrists ache from their weight.

“ _Ta ma duh_ ,” Jayne says. “Gimme one of those gorram sacks.” He slings one of Rupert’s bags of books over his own shoulder and they walk the last quarter mile back to the ship in companionable silence.

Jayne drops the bag in the cargo bay and says, “Come get me when you’re ready,” over his shoulder as he’s climbing the stairs.

Rupert grins at Jayne’s back. He sees so much of Ethan in this man. Oh, Ethan is-- _was_ \--cultured and urbane, witty and sophisticated, and many other adjectives that Jayne is not. But underneath those superficial differences, fundamentally the two men are much the same—selfish, narcissistic, practical, ruthless, entirely focused on the body. Rupert allows himself to remember the play of muscles in Jayne’s back as he carried Rupert’s burden for him. There’s something utterly captivating about selfishness when it occasionally bends to the will of another, something heady and sweet when one who is so wholly focused on himself enlarges that focus even momententarily. Rupert supposes he has a type.

Rupert stacks the volumes on his bed and fetches Jayne from his bunk. The walk back to the marketplace seems much shorter now that his hands are empty. Rupert buys four peaches, a cucumber, and a handful of the most perfectly red and white radishes he thinks he's ever seen. He tosses a peach to Jayne and Jayne shoots him a surprised look before rubbing the fruit on his shirt and sinking his teeth into its ripeness. Juice runs down his chin, and Jayne wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Rupert looks away.

"I been wondering something about you," Jayne says through a mouthful of peach as they leave the township behind them again.

Rupert says, "You can ask. I might not answer."

"Fair enough," Jayne says. He takes another bite of peach and swallows. "You sly?"

The word is unfamiliar to Rupert. His rudimentary command of Chinese has only improved since he landed on Serenity. He almost always understands what people are saying now even if he doesn't often think to use the language himself in his own speech. But slang often eludes Rupert.

"I don't know what sly means," Rupert says.

"Oh, for the love of," Jayne says and pulls Rupert close with a sticky hand. Jayne kisses him softly, almost tenderly, and his tongue tastes like ripe, sunwarmed peaches. "I don't normally kiss folk, just so's you know," Jayne says. "That was for demonstration purposes only."

Rupert grins. "Naturally," he says. "However, it's possible I need a few more demonstrations to fully grasp the concept. Is your afternoon free?"

Jayne draws back from Rupert and studies what's left of the peach he still clutches in his right hand. "I reckon I ain't got nothing too pressing," he says. Jayne eats the last bite of flesh that still clings to the peach's pit and then tucks the pit between his gum and his cheek, sucking on it audibly until Rupert convinces him his mouth is better occupied elsewhere.


End file.
